


Shield and Mountain

by KaeStela



Category: Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Adventure, Drabble Collection, Gen, Non-binary character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-21
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-16 10:34:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 11,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21506461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaeStela/pseuds/KaeStela
Summary: A collection of drabbles and short scenes inspired by my gameplay in Pokemon Shield. Most chapters are less than a thousand words long, just little scenes that hit my mind while playing or musing(working title was "Pokemon DocuMontery" because that's my sense of humor)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 21





	1. Lost

**Author's Note:**

> This and several following chapters were written as part of a one-word prompt series during October

Monty always stayed close to Pop now when they looked for mushrooms. As much as he loved the gleaming glow, much as they both knew that the best ones were deepest in, much as that little chill beckoned deeper, off the path, he knew to stay close to Pop now. Once was enough. 

Once taking a step too far, once ducking behind a log to reach some shiny stone, once straightening up and Pop was gone. Or Monty was. They never got that part straight, after. But they agreed on the cold, cold fear, on calling names softly, louder, loudest, on the forest swallowing it up with no echo. 

And Monty remembered the cold soft moss that sprang right back up after his feet left it, but not which direction he turned to look for where Pop had gone. Maybe he passed that tree before. Maybe it was a tree he’d never seen. Maybe it had been one minute. Maybe it had been days. The light never changed, just dark thick trees and soft green glow. The trees changed too much, except the same old stump again and again. 

Fear won. Monty ran. Soft thump of feet on moss, so like soft thump of pulse in ears, so strange, so soothing, so distant. He couldn’t find Pop. He couldn’t see Mom. He could always see Mom. Something was wrong. Something deeply wrong. 

And he shouldn’t have run. Too soon, that sharp, sharp pain of no air, no strength, the heavy thud of falling on the moss and no strength to move. The quiet hitch of sobs with eyes too dry to cry. 

Lost. 

Alone. 

Monty curled tighter. His sweater smelled of sweat and fear. But little, just a little, smoke and home. Mum’s sweet fruit cakes, his was still in Pop’s bag. Argyle’s leaves, the tea they all loved. Monty wished he had some tea. So dry, mouth so dry, so cracked. How were the trees so big, so green, with little Monty dry-parched-done? 

Maybe he’d stay here. Noreen, down the way… Liam said she had a sister, two into the forest, one came back. Long time ago, but Liam said… 

Monty couldn’t remember what he’d said, the sound of his voice. Something said to scare the young ones, sure… Didn’t seem to matter now. The moss was nice. And the stump again. Old friend, it felt now. Could curl up a while. Rest, sleep. Stay. 

A hand? Too tired to flinch, but Monty still stared dumbly as it waved in front of his eyes. Not a hand, maybe. Just a tree branch. But no, it waved again. 

Too tired, go away. 

It left. 

Monty sighed. Didn’t mean that, really. Nice to not be alone. But that was fine. Didn’t feel too bad now. 

Cold. Wet? Water. 

Monty sat up. Big, bulky, dark. Something blocked the mushroom light. It shuffled back, then held out the leaf again, leaf with water, like a bowl. Monty took the bowl and drank, and blinked again, and stared. A tree, a tree that moved? …a tree with one red eye. Two bark hands. 

Monty was just too tired to be scared. 

News caught the rest, though only half, old woman bringing lost child home, tearful family so grateful, a feel-good story for the front page. Old woman who’d lost a sister in the woods so long ago, so glad she could make sure this one got home just fine. It missed the part Monty remembered-half-dreamed: tree-carried home and old Noreen. Old Noreen’s strong arms around the tree, around Monty, the whispered _thanks, Roisin_.The funny feeling that these two, tree and woman, weren’t so distant at all. 

“Keep up, Monty,” Pop called, back to the now, and Monty hurried after. “We don’t want you getting lost again.” 

Monty grinned. It was an old thing by now, no hurt, no fear. He knew the forest wouldn’t keep him. “Just watching the trees, Pop.” 

“I know.” Pop ruffled Monty’s hair affectionately. “Just don’t stray too far, your dad won’t forgive me if I misplace you again. Ah, here we are.” 

He set his basket down and laid out their picnic cloth, passed out their lunches, set one on that same old stump. This was the part they never told Mum, but she never asked why they brought three lunches for two. Monty never really told Pop either, but he understood. Or guessed. Or didn’t need to know. Good enough. One for Pop, one for Monty, and one for Roisin. 


	2. Wild

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another one written for the one-word prompt series; Monty is genderfluid/NB, in case anyone asks ^_^

“You mustn’t forget they’re wild, now.” Mumsie would always remind her that, rain or shine. It was her answer to everything that Pokemon did, why some chased or ran, why some sang or roared, why some robbed her garden or helped her plant it. 

She had her points, Monty knew. “Don’t forget, they are wild,” Mumsie had warned that once-and-last time the cousins brought Monty along with them out and training. Cousins laughed, of course, said it’s fine, don’t worry. 

Laughed some more and said “Well heal him, fret-child,” when Monty fussed for letting their poor Stoutland get so down-and-tired fighting Obstagoon. 

Laughed still when Monty fell down, silent-crying, never had been one to scream. Cousins couldn’t see the red between her fingers, red above her ear–Stoutland took the berry she gave, took a good chomp too. Maybe mad for almost losing, maybe just plain mean. Still why Monty never dyed her curls red, after. 

Cousins said they never saw the teeth or blood. 

But Obstagoon did. 

Not much remembered–Obstagoon’s snarl and strong fur arms, Stoutland’s bark, Cousins shouting. Feet and running, smell of flowers, someone screaming. Sterile smell and sterile lights–not much after that, brief gentle hands then hurting and _hurting_. Mumsie sometimes, sometimes Pop, even Dad twice from his city sick-ward, stovepipe Weezing in tow. Plenty words and Monty tired, and somehow Argyle gone from fleur to elder. (Pop said “because he’s angry and scared he couldn’t help you,” which Monty thought was sweet and told Argyle so until his new soft-puff shook with relief and love). 

And Mumsie sighed and reminded her, “They _are_ wild, love. They do what they want…" 

So Monty stayed quiet for a while, once they took the bandages off and her curls grew back to hide the scars. Stayed shy of dogs too ("And who can blame her,” Pop said). 

Because Monty was thinking about what Mum said. 

Of course even small Monty understood that to every _them_ is an _us_ , to be what _they_ aren’t. _We_ aren’t wild, love. We don’t do as we want. 

That was the unspoken truth on why Leon and Sonia got their Pokemon and Ramona did not. 

But also why Ramona became Monty. 

And why Monty surprised them, Pop and Mumsie, with a form on her desk, new uniform clean and tidy, new job at the Pokemon Center bright and sharp. 

“They’re still wild,” Mum tried. “It could happen again. Aren’t you scared?" 

She faltered a little at Monty’s small sure smile. 

Pop knew. "You sure?” He asked, and that was all. 

“I am,” Monty replied. 

Because what Mum forgot: why Ramona became Monty and climbed those trees and dreamed of mountains all those years despite (or because of) “Get down, you’re not a child." 

Because of the someone who admitted "Well aren’t ye the wild child now,” and that was her _triumph_. 

Because the _wild_ could do what they wanted–that was _worth_ losing _us_ for _them_. 

And because of what Monty knew, sitting in that tree again after work, soothing new baby Wooloo with a first-time Breeder, treating burns with fresh rawst berry and making the nurse smile–knew sure as the sun. She loved that wild with all her heart. 


	3. Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the first chapter I wrote with Monty, but probably third chronologically, so it goes here for cohesion's sake. It's set perhaps a month or two before the adventure itself really begins

Monty tried to keep her needle steady as she jabbed it into the soft yellow wool. She loved-hated the careful parts. So hard to make that hondew berry perfect, so satisfying when she finally got it right. No yellow color-bleed on her pretty, pretty green, not this time. She tucked the last few fibers almost tender-like and held her creation up to the light. Just right. 

That giddy-nervous grin caught her lips again as she tucked her new creation into the pile. So many felt berries, all done. Down to the post tomorrow, toss Corviknight some cents and snacks and off they go. Then time to check the budget again and start one more batch. Maybe–the hope caught her so hard as it rose through her chest–maybe one last batch. 

She didn’t check her account again, knew what was in there already. It wasn’t much when she took for food and lodging, medicine for her and medicine for the pokemon she didn’t have yet. But she couldn’t bear it if–well, no.

“No melodrama, Monty,” she reminded herself, patting her cheeks to snap the thought. She could stand it. She just didn’t want to. It’s all Hop could talk about these days, how he was finally old enough for his own pokemon. How he could finally be just like Leon. 

“Dear old Leon,” Monty sighed, and without bitterness at last. After all, it wasn’t his fault, really, him or Sonia. They’d been kids, just kids, they didn’t see, not their fault poor frail Monty got left behind. Oh how she’d wished she could cry. But Monty is mountain, mountain is stone. Stone doesn’t feel, stone doesn’t cry. She’d picked it herself, way back then. Poor frail Monty with no pokemon of her own. 

“But not now,” she whispered, and tucked the felt away. “Not now. Well, now, but not soon.” There’s that giddy-grin again, the rustly laugh she had to tuck away before it set her coughing and Mumsie worrying. No laugh, but she could smile. She saw the news, heard from Hop (so hyper-happy, bless that child), old professor back in town soon. 

Maybe. Oh so much maybe. Maybe professor’s not so nice as they say, maybe Monty’s just too old to take her chance. So, so much maybe. 

But maybe. Monty walked over to her window again and leaned out to watch the sunset stars fade in. Maybe she could finally begin. 


	4. Nature

If there was one place at all where Monty really felt like _Monty_ , it was in a tree. Any tree would do in a pinch, but she liked the one up on the hill best, so old and proud, alone against the sky. Mumsie had given up trying to stop her climbing years ago (at least this way she knew sure where Monty’d gone) and settled on down to greeting Monty with a stern-fond sigh when she got home, sent her inside. Almost a game, for sure a ritual, Mum dabbing cream on Monty’s sun-and-wind-rosed nose and cheeks, Monty soaking her bark-scuffed fingers until the sting stopped and the reds faded, Mum’s Argyle picking leaves and twigs out of her rosy curls. 

And they’d talk for a while. It used to be just Mum’s fretful mutters, _what if ye fell, what if a wild pokemon attacked, careless child, what if, what if._

But sometime in there, that changed. It changed right around when Argyle went from gossifleur to eldegoss. Monty didn’t quite know why. The what stayed. But the rest? 

“What shapes did ye see in the clouds this time?” Mumsie asked sometimes. Or, “What were your cousins up to? Did ye see them playin’?” And on occasion, “Just what did ye do to your hair, my gal? Poor Argyle’s hands are stuck again!” 

Monty laughed softly and leaned back on her branch to feel the wind and watch the sky. She had to pick a good shape out to share tonight. “Wooloo, always wooloo in the sky–” The old tune almost left her breathless with another round of giggles. “Watch them rolling ‘round up high, now just who taught my sheep to fly?” 

Been a long while since she thought of that song. Maybe Mumsie had been humming it while she hung out the laundry. 

Monty sure didn’t mind the new questions. Could actually answer these. Just wasn’t always easy to hide she was relieved when “What” didn’t end in “are you up to?” 

“Is it this beautiful in Kalos, Mom?” she asked as the breeze picked up again. 

Sometimes the link was strong enough that she got words and Mom’s rich voice, accent thick enough to swim in. Maybe it was today, but seemed like Mom wasn’t in the mood, and Monty didn’t mind it. She could always get the pictures, pictures in her mind, and in every one Monty could feel the love for the land they would both probably would not see again. Oh, there’s the old guilt– 

The rolling west cliffs vanished with a stern tone and Monty smiled-winced, sheepish. “I know, I know, no point to feel sorry,” she said, and the stern went gentle. “Not my fault and all and all…” 

The images–memories–started again, and Monty could see the rolling flowers, rolling river, rolling breeze, clouds like these… 

“But still,” Monty said, and made the image pause, “but still, it would be nice, ye think? To go and see?” 

She _felt_ that sigh and looked down, more sheepish in her smile, to the ghost in the tree roots. “Ye think I’m dreaming silly too. Well, maybe I am. But…” 

The clouds began to clear to let the sun through. Monty settled back again and let the gold light warm her face. “But maybe so, it’s nice to dream, and maybe it’s not _dreaming_ soon.” She felt the tickling, curious stare and kept going. “Don’t think I’ll quite make Kalos, but maybe–”

“Ramona!” 

Monty winced. Damn cousins. “It’s _Monty_ , tyke. Whatchye want?”

“Mama says come in now, it’s getting cold,” her cousin called. He took off before she could respond. They never liked getting close to Mom, though Monty knew they couldn’t see her too. Maybe best that way. 

Monty sighed and started down the tree, even though the sunlight pulled her. Can’t argue with Mumsie. Don’t want those _what ifs_ back. But still… 

She looked back at the ghost, at the sunset through her, at the distant hills. “I’ll climb those mountains for ye, Mom,” she said, “and that’s the truth. I’ll climb them and all their trees. Maybe I can’t do Kalos, but I’ll see every flower in Galar. I’ll show ye _home_.” 

Monty broke off in a rush of hot and cold, chilled ghost arms around her nothing for the surge of sun-bright love that pulled tears and remembered tears to her eyes. 

_You will,_ her mom whispered, pushing hard to form the words and send them through. _You will. I know_. 

Monty swallowed her tears under her smile. So hard to hide the smile, fake it, couldn’t let them see the real one though, or they’d know–but let them guess anyway. “I’m almost there, Mom,” Monty murmured. “C’mon. Let’s go.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clarification: "Mum" or "Mumsie" refers to Monty's aunt, "Pop" is her uncle. "Mom" and "Dad" are her biological parents


	5. Study

The basics were easy. Stood to reason that Grass wasn’t too fond of Fire, and Fire got doused by Water. Even the children knew that, playing Trainer with their plush toys in the schoolyard. It made sense that Grass didn’t like Ice either, hearing Mumsie complain about early frost and her herb garden. Monty had seen poor Gramps Argyle shivering in the winter cold many times, too. 

Some of them were harder. “So why does Flying get Fighting so hard?” she asked her friend in Sinnoh. 

“I don’t know,” came the reply, accompanied by a huffy Toxicroak emoji. “It just does.” 

Monty asked the nurse at work about it, and received a long-winded and enlightening explanation that boiled down to, she decided, _it is really hard to punch a bird._

“How about Psychic and Poison?” she asked her friend later. 

There was a longer pause as he thought about the response, followed by “I had not really thought about it before. Toxicroak and I just rely on her Anticipation, and she has always been careful not to anger my Bronzong. I could do some studies for you.” 

Monty turned him down for that. Had his own work, he did, and she didn’t _always_ need a why. Maybe. 

Medicines didn’t really need too much why, for certain. Monty had been growing berries with old Grandpop since she could walk. Still grew what she could in her corner of Mumsie’s garden. Only the out of towners were silly-rude enough to ask if she knew her stuff when the berry satchel came out instead of expensive medicines for minor deals. Got Monty’s goat when they did bother, though. Didn’t ask Mumsie if she knew her stuff with the bitter herb powder. Don’t ask Monty when Monty tells ye pecha for those Oddish spores and oran to patch up after, cheri if ye hug that Pikachu too tight. Stands to reason, don’t it?

Monty knew she’d always seen a little sideways certain, but if local gal with none ‘mons could know it, for sure should everyone. 

But there was one more why, the harder one to answer. Her phone jangled, her friend asked “Why did you need to know?" 

Monty thought a while, sent him a photo of the clouds that evening. Nicest sunset she’d ever seen. 

"It is a very good view, thank you,” he replied. “I will show Toxicroak later. You are avoiding the question." 

Damn him. But… couldn’t hide forever. "I need to know,” she typed. “I’m getting ready." 

It said something about him that his only reply was that kind of thoughtful silence, then a picture of a four-leafed clover outside. "I saw this last week and left it for someone who needed it. I see you do." 

Monty buried her face in her pillow. Not crying, no. Of course not. Just her smile too big, squeezed some tears from her eyes. 

When she opened her phone again, it was a photo of the clover again, held by the felt Croagunk she had sent him last year. 

Okay. Maybe she was crying now. "Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus cameo time~ Not sure how much this fellow will show up so I'm not adding him to the tags just yet.


	6. Search

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the last of the prompted chapters. After this it's just me writing as the mood strikes

“C’mon, ye gotta be here somewhere. Ouch!” Monty pulled back from under the bed, rubbing their head and muttering incoherently under their breath. “Right, so ye ain’t got manners. Where’d ye go, now?” 

Argyle shuffled beside them as they sat back up in their chair and rolled over to the desk. Maybe it’d fallen under there, or got left in a drawer? 

“Not now, Gramps-dear,” Monty murmured, putting a hand on his fluff to quiet his sad chirping. “We can have lunch later. I’ve gotta find it before Mumsie or Pop do. Or the Cousins.” Oh, Edan would never let her get away with this. Little brat, he’d go straight to Mumsie and then all the work for naught… 

Still nothing. Monty shoved their fingers through their curls and gripped tight, wishing they were a little less silky so they’d have something to take their frustration out on. It had to be here! They knew they’d left it nearby- 

“Monty?” 

Monty stifled a flinch and a curse that would’ve gotten them such a stern look and tried a smile. “Hallo, Mum. I left my door open?” 

Mumsie smiled back, soft and a little tired, probably from staying up too late in the herbs-room again. “You did. Getting a bit silly, are we?” 

Monty chuckled softly in spite of themself. “You know me. When am I not?” 

Mumsie gestured at the bed, tidy-made for once, and Monty nodded. They didn’t mind if she sat there. But then she patted the bed next to her. Oh. Alright. Monty got up and sat down beside Mum. It was really a soft mattress, and their combined weight tipped Monty into Mum’s shoulder. They were too busy laughing about that for a moment to notice what Mum had in her hand. 

It was their new trainer card. 

Monty was quiet for a while. “Are ye mad?” they asked. 

“Yes, and… no,” Mum sighed. “I wish ye had asked. But I know why you didn’t want to. And I… sort of figured ye would, sometime. Argyle’s been trying to tell me for months.” 

“What- he has?! That little traitor.” Monty jumped as if stung and shot a scorching glare at the little Eldegoss. Argyle busied himself with his leafy collar. 

“Hush, leave him be,” Mum scolded. “Not like that.” She sighed again. “No, not at all. He was just trying to tell me how you were long-since ready to leave the nest.” 

Monty didn’t resist as Mum took their hands and guided them over to the window. Argyle hopped up on the desk beside them and plopped himself into the half-full bowl of felt berries. “Look out there, you see the lil’ gossifleur just taking flight?" 

Monty smiled. "Argyle’s grandsprouts. They’re learnin’ to read the wind." 

"That’s right.” Mum leaned her forehead on the window frame. “Argyle kept showing me, and I almost took too long to know what he was saying." 

She turned and hugged Monty tight, voice even tighter. Monty’s ear got wet. "Promise you’ll come home sometimes, okay?" 

Monty laughed- helpless, relieved, sorry, hopeful, too many things to name. "It’s okay, Mum,” they promised, hugging back and patting her shoulder. “I will. I’ll come home." 

Mum shook a little. "You sure? Your dad would never forgive- _I’d_ never forgive me-" 

Monty hugged her and took a step back to offer a handkerchief to dry her eyes. "Of course I’m sure, Mumsie. I’ll come home. And I’m still yer Monty. Now, don’t ye cry. I ain’t off just yet." 

"I know, I know…” Mum sighed again, but smiling. “Always prepared for everything though, aren’t you? But it can’t be easy all by yerself." 

"Well, not too,” Monty admitted. They wiggled Argyle around to get at a felt pecha, earning sleepy trill. “Been selling these beauties, it helps." 

Mum took the berry and inspected it, nodding with approval. "I bet it would. Ye got good at this. But medicine’s not cheap…" 

"No, Mum. No, it ain’t.” Monty’s voice got small. The one big hole in their plan. They tried so hard, but hard to prepare for the emergency they knew could happen. 

“Well now. Can’t let you go without that.” Mum planted the berry back in the bowl. Argyle squeaked and got his fluff patted. “Come on, then. Let’s go find Pop." 

"Eh?” Monty almost dropped a second berry and scrambled to catch it. 

“Don’t eh me, now, ye can’t leave without telling him! Besides.” Mum ruffled Monty’s curls. “I’d bet we can help." 

It was Monty’s turn to pull up a hug, tears soaking into their lashes. They swallowed hard, croaked out a "Thanks, Mum." 

Mum laughed, soft and gentle as she always did when Monty made her smile. "Can’t do less, can I? Course I’m sad you’re going, but still… You’re my Monty. And I’m yer mum. Come on. I’ll make sure we see you off right." 


	7. Pride

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this one a week before the game released~

Most hospital rooms were all cold and sterile and left Monty wondering _How can I get well without a drop of color in the walls?_ Dad’s room wasn’t like that, because he’d been there long enough to dress it up and make it his to stay. The soft purple carpet was a great touch, and Monty dug her toes into it as she stretched up to hug him. 

“Hey now, champ. Nice to see you too,” Dad said, ruffling her hair. “But if you don’t leave my ribs in one piece, Nurse Lizanne will nail our ears to the door." 

Monty giggled. "Yours too?” she asked. Her accent always got soft with him. They both thought it was funny. 

Dad grinned. “For enabling you. Come here.” He picked her up and plopped her down on the bed. “So Aideen says you’re going adventuring at last." 

Monty’s grin brightened with something too deep and heavy for it to be a grin anymore. "Yeah. See?” She pulled her Trainer card out of her pocket to show him. 

Dad took it and studied the portrait. “Not bad! Got your good side, princess?" 

Monty snorted. "They’re all my good side." 

He laughed and returned it. "Well said, and darn right. You take after your mom, and more luck to you." 

Monty patted his hand. "Hey now, you’re not too hard on the eyes." 

Dad put a hand over his heart, a classic _I’ve been hit!_ "What? Not too hard? You’re supposed to say I’m handsome!" 

Monty scoffed and tugged one of his greying curls. "Right, right, ye silver fox, you." 

She felt a light ruffle in her hair and saw Dad smile. _Hello, Mom._

"See? I’m right.” Dad couldn’t see her like Monty could, but he could still tell. His grin was downright cheeky. It softened a little bit as he ran his fingers through Monty’s curls again. “Glad you came by for me to see you off. I have something for you.”

“Eh?” Monty leaned forward. “What’s up?" 

"Wait and see.” Dad walked past old Stovepipe dozing in her corner (good Weezing, Monty loved her dearly) and opened his trunk. He picked something up, but held it so Monty couldn’t see it as he walked back over. 

“Whatchye got there? Come on, what is it?" 

Dad plopped it down on her head. It smelled like cedar. "Look in the mirror. It’s my old cap. Your granddad gave it to me when I started off. It brought me a lot of luck, it did. I won my first badge in that cap… and met your mom in it too." 

Monty reached up to feel the old green felt. Still soft. 

Dad nodded a bit, thinking over the words. "My dad made me promise to pass it along to my son when he started off.” He rocked on his heels a little, just like Monty did when she was anxious. “Well, no matter to me… You can be my boy, my gal, but always my Monty." 

"Always yer Monty,” Monty echoed with that shy little smile that happened when trying to hold back happy heartache tears. 

Dad smiled. “That’s right. So, it’s yours now. Hope it brings you luck too." 

Monty swallowed hard, then threw her arms around him. "Gonna make ye proud, Dad." 

Dad patted her back. "You don’t have to. I already am." 

That hit right in the tear ducts and took her voice away. Monty just nodded and let her tears leak into his hair. Served him right, it did. Getting her soggy like this… "I’m gonna miss you,” she whispered. 

Dad let her have her cry, then leaned back to look her in the eyes. “It really does suit you,” he said, and grinned a little as she glared at him for threatening the waterworks again. “Go on, then, Monty. The world’s waiting. Don’t worry about me. You can always visit, anyway. Got it? You just go make _you_ proud." 

She swallowed hard again but her eyes stayed dry this time. "I will. …thanks, Dad." 


	8. Into the Weald and World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As of this point, I'm writing off actual gameplay, so if you want to remain unspoiled, stop here. This particular chapter is only the first 20 minutes of gameplay or so but I know that's still significant to some people so heads up

Happened a little too quick for her–She knew adventure always did, in the stories her Pop told her, but Monty didn’t think she’d ever get to it herself. That crash, the Wooloo gone, and Hop charging off to see what’s up. Into the Slumbering Weald… But poor little Wooloo. She couldn’t leave it. Remembered all too well how bad it was, lost in a wood, and that was just the bright one down the way. 

“We should tell someone where we’ve gone,” she tried. Screwed up her courage. 

“No time for that,” Hop said. “Come on!” 

So they went. 

Into the Weald… Monty had never been in without Pop before, and that was just once, to fix the old gate when a Rookidee took off with the latch. Just two steps in was all they went. Bad enough. Who knew how far they’d go today… 

The tall grass rustled. Monty shouted warning, threw Scaevola’s ball. The small grey bird swooped away from her and fluffed angrily. Rookidee! Did thinking call the blasted thing? She remembered poor old Argyle running from a flock of them once before Pop’s Hakamo-o clanged them off. So grass was no good with birds… She looked at Scaevola, little thing gravely gripping that stick with his little left hand. But you’re all I’ve got. 

“Best make it quick, then.” 

Few scratches, two Rookidees, and a Skwovet later, she caught Hop. “There ye are,” she gasped. The mist was heavy, hurting in her lungs. “Slow down!” 

“There you are,” he said, though he started off slower. “Come on, that little Wooloo’s in here somewhere. Doing alright, Grookey? I’ll keep you in top form.” 

Monty smiled a little as he sprayed a potion on Scaevola’s nicks. “Thanks, Hop. How’s your lot?” 

“We’re fine, don’t worry.” He was antsy now. Courage still, but still. The Slumbering Weald. 

And then the mist rolled in too thick. Monty’s eyes went wide and she dragged her collar up to cover her nose. She heard Hop start to say something about can’t see his hand in front of his face, but her eyes were on the dark thing staring towards them. She felt it before she saw, but no way to be ready for the seeing.

Dog. 

Big dog. Monty swallowed her scream. Maybe the fog did too, hard to tell there. Scaevola’s shrill chirp grabbed her senses. So big… But nowhere to run. 

“Growl, Scaevola!” Maybe they could bluster this. 

Scaevola bared his little teeth his fiercest, but the thing just stared them down. 

“Wha–?” Hop cried. “The move had no effect on it?!” 

“I saw, I see.” Monty gritted her teeth. Didn’t want to make it mad, but– “Try scratch!” 

Scaevola screeched and lunged–no go. Too go. Went right through. 

“Ghost type?” Monty breathed. Made sense. But no. It felt wrong. Not ghost. 

The dog howled and Monty did scream. A rush of fog, of fear. 

Hop was shouting something. Her name? “Monty! I can’t see anything! You okay?!” 

“No!” she all but wailed. “There’s a dog.” 

Hop’s incredulous stare was barely there in the mist. “We can’t see and can’t touch this thing and your big thing is it’s a dog?” 

“It’s a big thing, alright?!” She tried not to cry, tried hard. “Scaevola, your branch!” 

The little Grookey lunged. Something cracked. Dog’s eyes–the world–went white. 

Monty reached for something–anything–found small and warm. And nothing. 

Pounding feet, pounding head, pounding lungs. Something small and warm. Monty groaned and sat up, stood slow. The Weald still… No dog. She breathed out long relief and coughed hard. Scaevola chirped and churred in her arms. 

“Ow…” So Hop was there too. That was good. 

“Hop! Monty!” Leon’s voice, then a Leon in the fog, then real and solid. Monty could hug him, except her arms were full of Grookey. She settled for helpless, helpless laughing. 

“Wha–? Lee?” Hop shook his head, gaping. “How’d you manage to find your way here? You’re pants with directions. You always get lost.” 

Monty’s laugh calmed into a soft chuckle. Hop joking like nothing happened. It was fine, it was fine… 

Leon put his hands on his hips. “Oh, that’s nice to hear from the little brother who had me worried sick! I’d been waiting ages for you two, and you never showed! Of course I came looking for the both of you.” 

Ages? Monty bit her lip and tried to think. Just how long were we in here? Oh–Mum will be so fretting. Scaevola chirped again, softly, and Monty smoothed his fur. “It’s alright, little one,” she murmured. Skies but she sounded hoarse. Oh… “The Wooloo, Hop.” 

He didn’t hear, but Hop was thinking the same by the sudden thunderstruck on his face. “Wait, where’s the Wooloo? We were trying to rescue that Wooloo!” 

Leon just smiled and turned so his cape stopped blocking their sight of the path behind him. Wooloo bleated happily, cozied up to his Charizard. “The little chap’s just fine,” he said, patting Hop’s shoulder. “Though all of you had fainted by the time I found you here.” His smile faded. “You know this place is out of bounds… But it took courage to come in here all the same. And I can understand well enough why you did it.” 

The smile turned back up again and his hand was back on his little brother’s shoulder. “You did good, Hop!” 

Hop grinned, proud and maybe a little sheepish. “And at least that Wooloo’s alright, yeah, Monty?” 

“Yeah…” Monty stroked Scaevola again. He was shaking, and that wasn’t mist that made his cheeks damp. Poor thing must’ve been scared. Some trainer I am, letting my Pokemon cry. 

Hop was telling Leon about the weird Pokemon, but Monty stopped listening again. Something was wrong with her Scaevola. 

“Where’s yer branch?” 

He made a throaty little sound that somehow held all the saddest feel that Monty’d ever heard. Monty walked over a little ways to where he pointed. It was on the ground still, must’ve been dropped… And broken. 

“Ohhh… My poor Scaevola.” Monty knelt and gingerly picked it up. It was still joined a little, the break only went maybe halfway through. So that was the crack she’d heard… “That’s no, no good. And my orders too…” 

He reached up and patted her cheek. Monty smiled through the threatening tears and scratched his ear. Didn’t blame her, even if she did. 

“You’re a good child,” she whispered. “Come on, it’s not gone yet.” She fished in her bag and found a roll of medical tape she kept for emergencies. “Maybe Mum can help.” 

“Hey? Monty?” Leon and Hop had finished talking. “Now don’t wander off and get lost again!” 

“I’m here, I’m here,” she called back. She picked up a few leaves and wrapped them like gauze around the broken stick, then taped them in place with a twig, a makeshift splint. “There, Scaevola. We’ll make it right.” 

He purred gently and patted her cheek again, then took the stick from her hand. Monty ruffled his fur. 

“All set?” Leon walked over to her. “Let’s get out of this place. You’ll be alright now that I’m here with you!” 

Hop grinned. “Even if we did get an earful from Lee, what an experience! This’ll make a pretty fine first page in the tale of my legend!”

Monty nodded and laughed. “As ye like it, silly boy.” She coughed into her collar again and waved off his worry. “Come on, I miss the sun.” 

The way out seemed so much less than the way in. Sunlight again so soon had Monty squinting hard and Scaevola purring at the warm, warm light. Leon kept going on ahead. Hop turned back at the foot of the stairs to Monty’s house. 

“Don’t forget to tell your mum we’re off to Wedgehurst now,” he said. “She’ll go spare if you leave without a word–even worse than Lee just did!” 

Monty chuckled. “Ye think that was spare? Nah. I’ll catch you there, never fret. Come on, lil’ Scaevola. She’ll just love ye.” 

She sure did. Mum nearly dropped the dish she was washing as Scaevola chirped at her. “Well now, isn’t he just a sweetheart! And so you’re off to Wedgehurst? I heard the news from young Leon. I’m glad someone bothered to tell me!” 

Monty grimaced. “I tried, Mum. Hop’s pushy.”

Mum sighed. “I know, I know. That boy will get you in trouble, just watch. But since today’s the day…” She ducked into the cabinet and pulled out a small parcel. “Here we are. I got your Trainer Card a sleeve to keep the rain off, and a bit of pocket money from your Pop and me.” She waved off Monty’s thanks. “You waited this long, dear. You more than earned it. Buy a potion or two at the Pokemon Center when you get there.” She knelt to pat Scaevola’s head. “Remember this Grookey will battle to the very end for you, so don’t you go pushing the poor dear too hard! And you, Grookey, look after my little Monty!” 

“Mum,” Monty almost whined. “I’m not that little!” 

Mum laughed and compared their heights with one hand. “Little enough, I’d say. Chin up, dear! Come home to rest anytime that you need. After all… east or west, home is best. Ah, this brings back memories, doesn’t it, Argyle?” 

Argyle stretched and trilled sleepily from his sunny window box, then hopped down to shuffle over to Monty. She crouched as he bumped his head into her knee, and patted his soft fluff. 

“Before I go, Mum, I did have a–oof.” She broke off with a short heavy cough. “Ach, dangit all.” 

Fret caught Mum’s eyes and she hurried over to the kettle, turning it up to boiling. “Starting with a cold’s no good, now.” 

Monty waved her off. “It’s no cold, just the wet. We got in some fog earlier, got me fierce, it did.” 

“Well then, some tea will sort you right out.” Mum nodded decisively. “What else was it you needed?” 

Monty pointed at Argyle and Scaevola. “Gramps has it figured out. See?” 

Argyle managed to coax Scaevola into handing over his branch. He held it up for Mum to inspect. 

Mum crouched to get a better look. “Oh, oh. That isn’t very good, dear. You want me to fix it?” 

Monty nodded, suddenly nervous. “Ye can, right?” 

“Of course.” Mum took it and ruffled Monty’s hair at her sigh of relief. “It’ll be just like mending Roisin’s twigs after that windstorm last week. I think I still have… Ah, yes.” 

She found the packet of powder in its drawer and poured a second cup of hot water for it, setting Monty’s tea steeping in one and mixing the sweet-sharp stuff into the other. “You did very good in binding it like this,” she said, approving. “It’ll just need a soak. Very good in picking a Grookey, really. They can make plants grow, so your little one should be fine making this mend with just a little help.” 

Monty wrinkled her nose as the powder turned the mix green. “Glad he don’t have to drink that.” 

Scaevola sneezed. He sure agreed. 

Mumsie laughed. “Just let it steep while you drink your tea. Give it… say, an hour? You can rest a while, show him your room and all.” 

Monty smiled, resigned a little, but happier still, and scooped Scaevola up with one arm. Argyle helpfully grabbed the teacup and followed her upstairs as Mum went back to her cleaning. 

They all sat together at Monty’s desk, watching the wind toss clouds. 

“Well,” Monty sighed, “there ye have the truth of it, Scaevola.” She patted her collarbone and sipped at her tea again. “Sickly little trainer ye got yourself.” 

Scaevola watched her, calm and quiet. 

Monty met his eyes over her mug’s rim. “You… get it, don’t you? Not just me.” 

Scaevola churred and touched her hand. 

“Ahh…” Monty set her mug back down. “So, so. We’re the wind-whipped branch. We’re both the wind-whipped branch, ye see? Ye do, I know it.” She gently took his branch. “We’re broken.” 

Scaevola patted her fingers again and tugged a little at the makeshift splint. 

Monty smiled. “That’s right. But I lean on you, you lean on me, we’ll both stand tall.” She held out a hand. “Well now, what say ye?” 

Scaevola pressed his palm to hers and purred and purred. 


	9. Meandering

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took my adventure nice and slowly this time, never done that with Pokemon before. But it felt right. So did an Obstagoon on my team after the "Wild" chapter.

The days rolled by with the clouds overhead. The initial exhilaration faded, but not the quiet, slow happiness that filled Monty every time Scaevola held still for her to scratch his head, or Maura bumped gently into her knees. For the first time in her life, Monty was entirely surrounded by Pokemon, and she was entirely _happy_. 

She hadn’t expected it to be so _easy_ to make friends. Maura joined her first. Monty knew quite a lot about Wooloo from helping the farmers around shearing time, so it wasn’t hard to call just right and get the sassy little sheep to follow her all docile-like, even let Monty play with that soft, soft wool. Still headbutted Monty’s knees plenty, but Monty didn’t mind. 

Otho joined them next, the silly bird. Didn’t even try fighting when Monty sent out Maura, just played in the puddles and rolled around the berry Monty tossed him. What a jolly little Rookidee, and more than happy to tag along and see the world. 

Cato and Caesar joined almost together, so Monty gave them nicknames from the same letter. They got on well together too, always calm and chill with Otho’s antics or when Maura bumped them along. Impatient, curious sheep. Cato gave Monty the biggest shock too, he did, glowing bright and his glassy blue turning into gold and spots right as Monty reached the Professor’s house. Caesar watched and clicked his grubby pincers and wiggled as Monty held him. 

Then there was Asper, as Monty trudged back toward the train at dusk. Gave them all a scare. Bushes rustle, Obstagoon watching, Scaevola pounding the dusty ground with the butt of his stick to scare her off. (Still didn’t use the tip for fear he’d break it again.)

“Hold on now,” Monty told him, hand on his head. And against all caution, she walked closer. “Old madam? I think I know you.” 

The Obstagoon grinned and brushed at her forehead, mirror of the years-old scars Monty had from cousin’s Stoutland. Monty grinned and brushed the scars, remembered snarl and strong fur arms. “Ye remembered me.”

A throaty sound. Obstagoon pointed to Scaevola, stared at Monty hard. Bent and nudged something in the bushes by her feet. A little poly Zigzagoon tumbled out, sniffed balefully at his ma. 

Monty blinked and stared. “Eh? Ye… want me to take this one?” 

The young Zigzagoon ducked his head and shuffled on the spot. Shy and bashful little thing, wasn’t he? Monty crouched and held out a hand as Ma Obstagoon rumbled almost disdainful, almost dearly. 

Monty chuckled. “Toughen him up, that’s the idea? Can’t promise tough from me, old ma’am, but I’ll try.” 

Ma Obstagoon rumbled again, nodded, and put a heavy paw on Monty’s shoulder, touched her child’s back, tapped Monty’s other shoulder, looked in her eyes and nodded. 

“Oh.” Monty smiled, warm and touched beyond words. 

So that’s what she meant. _“Someone to look after you.”_

“Thanks, old ma’am.” Hard not to let the heart-deep tears trickle in her throat, but she tried. “Promise ye that, we’ll both do good.” She held out a hand, baby Zigzagoon hesitated, then bumped his nose into it at that almost-dear rumble from Ma. Monty smiled and stroked his fur. He knew better than trying to look tough just yet, just let his happy little tongue loll out and tried to try his ma’s deep growl. 

Monty laughed. “Now who’d believe a zig’goon can purr?”


	10. One Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been so busy with work and actually beating the game that I keep forgetting to post when I'm done with a write ^_^;;

Sore. Sore, sore sore. Monty laughed and coughed a bit and leaned back. The pokeball at her belt clicked and her back found soft fur instead of cold wall. “Hey, Scaevola.” 

He churred, a little too big now to chitter easily. 

Monty held up the golden ring. It glittered in the sunlight, making the green mark on the new trinket inside it seem to glow. One badge down, seven to go. Everything hurt, her poor sick lungs and tired little frame that was fine chasing Wooloo a while but not fighting hail and storms, day and day. He sure was a sweetheart, Milo was, and she wouldn’t mind visiting again. But goodness, ouch. It hurt to even laugh. “Haaah… how in the world did we get mixed up in this?” 

Scaevola churred again, definitely a question this time. She was starting to understand him pretty well. 

Monty waved her free hand at the stadium around them. “Ye know, all this! See now, all I wanted… I jus’ wanted a Pokemon, see? Didn’t plan to get pulled along on this. But Hop, well, he’s… ye can’t say no. Ha, all about _his_ legend, he is, and what about poor Monty? Never a word about her. But ye can’t say no. Ye try and he jus’ won’t take it.” 

Scaevola growled a little. Monty started and put a calming hand on his arm. 

“No, no, not like that. Just… He means no harm really. I just think he’s got his own lil’ story playin’ in his head all the time, and story-you’s already said yes, so real you _can’t_ have said no. Make sense?” 

The growl was softer. Scaevola understood, even if he didn’t much like it.

Monty chuckled. “It’s like when ye get drummin’ real fast and there’s nothin’ but the beat.” 

That made the growl stop and turn into an embarrassed little chitter. Oh he knew that all too well. 

Monty smiled up at him, enjoying the smell of fresh grass and that deeper, almost spicy smell from his tucked-up leaves. “Not that it’s always a bad thing, hm?” She reached up to touch one of the two sticks keeping his leaves tidy. She was the only person allowed to touch the sticks. Scaevola purred. “Ye wouldn’t have become who ye are if ye didn’t get lost in the beat.” 

Her Thwackey tugged one of her curls and let it bounce, which got a laugh. There was a quiet serious note in his face though, and pride. They were both thinking of that big Onix outside the Wild Area station. With Scaevola bruised and hurting, the heavy, heavy rocks and heavier rain, stick snapped again but he just picked up the other half and kept pounding… And fur flushed light green, just kept drumming. 

Monty smiled soft and proud and full of love as she tapped out the rhythm against Scaevola’s chin. He rumbled for her, almost tuneful, an echo of something she knew. 

“Now where did you learn that old lullaby?” she asked, smiling through the nostalgia and tears at the corners of her eyes. “Did Mumsie teach you or’ve I been singin’ in my sleep again?” 

He chuffed and didn’t answer that one. 

“Ach, fine, keep yer secrets.” Monty leaned against him like he was an oversized pillow and pulled out her phone. “Well now, guess I’d best tell Mum and Mako how it’s been. Who’d have thought? Lil’ Monty, one badge down.” 

She grinned up at Scaevola again. “Ye hear that, Lefty? One down. Long sleep tonight, that’s right. But ye know…” She scratched his chin and made him smile. “I rightly think we’ll get the rest.” 


	11. Argyle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a scripted encounter Eldegoss right outside Turffield and I was so happy when he drifted right down to land on me. Gentle, scatters things often, he's exactly how I imagined Argyle proper

She heard the whistle as she crossed the bridge out of Turffield, right before the Eldegoss drifted on down past her head. Monty grinned at the familiar sight, thinking he was wild before she recognized the little diamond pattern on his leaves. “Hey now, Gramps! What’re ye doin’ out here?” 

Argyle smiled in that old mysterious way he had and whistled to her, swaying his leaves like a dancer. 

Monty tried to shoo him. “Was Mumsie fretting that much? Go on, she’s gonna need ye to help her keep house. Tell her I’m doin’ just fine. Even got my first badge now, look.” 

Argile smiled brighter but didn’t seem at all inclined to leave. 

Monty sighed. “Oh, I get it, it was _you_ who worried, was it? Come here, Gramps.” She smiled and crouched down so he could reach her. “I guess I owe ye a few big hugs for the days I’ve been gone, eh?” 

Argyle shuffled over and snuggled into her hands. Monty squeezed him gently, then froze as she felt something round and hard in his fluff, too big to be a seed. 

“Argyle? What’s this?” 

The old Eldegoss just sat back and waited for her to catch on. 

Monty took the Quick Ball from where Mum had tucked it and read the note Argyle offered, then hugged him again and didn’t try not to cry. “Aw, Gramps…” 

_Hey Monty,_ the note read. _Argyle’s been getting antsy since you left. Don’t you worry about me and the garden, those Budew have been helping well and your Pop’s finally learned what’s not a weed. We’ll be fine! But I can’t tell if Argyle’s just worried or if he’s itching for when I tried the challenge all that time ago. Left you his pokeball, just in case. Give him a good workout for me, will you? ~Mum_

Monty took the ball, wiped her tears, and lightly bonked Argyle’s forehead with it. “As ye like it,” she said with a deep little grin. “Come on, Gramps. We’ve got a world to see.” 


	12. Poison

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Toxel here is now my dearly-beloved Philo the Rampaging~ She's a good girl

A haunting cry wavered under the rain. Monty shivered and pulled his coat tighter. With his second badge in hand, he’d hoped to cross the bridge near Motostoke and make a new friend or two, but this awful weather promised to stall him hard. “No sense gettin’ chills, Monty,” he murmured to himself. Good thing Dad’s cap was so darn warm. 

There it was again. Spooky… Monty was no stranger to ghosts, even liked them a little. But he thought of that big old Golurk he’d seen stomping around yesterday and shivered harder. No promise for ghost to like him, none at all, and he didn’t like his odds just from eyeing that thing. 

Argyle snuggled close in on his shoulder. Monty reached up to pat him. “No fear, old Gramps,” he told the old Eldegoss. “We’ll find a quiet spot, we will. Some place to pitch camp, wait it out.” 

Under the bridge ahead looked right enough. Less rain down there. Maybe less big pokemon too. Fun to watch, but not fun to run from, not soaked to the bone. Monty hurried forward, then skidded in the muck and crouched fast. Argyle chittered sharply, indignant and spooked and quite nearly upended. 

“Shh, Gramps, look.” 

A little Toxel cowered against the stones. Didn’t look too good at first glance, and Monty didn’t think that was just mud there. Quiet as Monty’d tried to be, it looked up at them and tried to bristle, but didn’t have much luck at all. Definitely not just mud. 

“Poor tyke,” Monty murmured. Reminded him a bit too well of some of the first-time-trainer’s bringings on hard afternoons, cracked and battered because some young ‘uns didn’t know how to play soft with others. But this was a wild thing, not an unlucky Nickit. …and poison type. No signal on his phone out here with the big old bridge to block, no way to call Mako for advice. Monty checked his pocket, subtle as he could with the Toxel still watching, to make sure he had his medicine on hand. Dangerous, dangerous. 

Argyle trilled again, nervous, as Monty pulled his tent out of his bag. 

“It’s fine, Gramps,” Monty hushed him. “I know what I’m doing.” _I really don’t,_ he admitted to himself. _But it’s not like I can leave the little thing._

The Toxel didn’t move much as Monty pitched the tent and hauled the cooking pot to a relatively dry patch under the bridge, tucking rocks tidily around it. Maybe hurting, maybe tired, maybe just a really chill little creature, wasn’t too easy to tell from here. Monty let his pokemon out one by one, whispering to each to leave the Toxel alone. No sense scaring it. 

Asper listened and nodded and curled beside the tent. Argyle stayed firmly on Monty’s shoulder. Scaevola huffed a little, already solid-sure that poison types made Monty sick as any grass type got after that one unlucky run-in with a Stunky. But he’d learned soundly too that Monty meant mountain, and Monty was as stubborn as one when his mind was made up. For his part, Opilio was too new to know any of Monty’s quirks, but didn’t care enough to be bothered. The Sizzlepede just got as close as he could to a shrug with so many legs and a carapace, then wrapped himself around the cooking pot to start it warming. 

“Got so many apples, might be right as rain,” Monty muttered, rummaging through his ingredients, then laughed at the accidental pun as a raindrop dripped down his nose. “Fair-fair. So it’ll be. And we’ve got a right mixey crowd tonight… So plain-berry too, I think.” Good thing indeed for dropping those oran and persim on his noggin earlier, it seemed. 

Toxel watched quietly as Monty prodded Opilio to the right heat and stirred away at the pot. Didn’t seem too bothered at the excitement when monty served the fresh curry up, either. Now, when Monty approached with a spare plateful, now _that_ was a surprise. 

“I won’t hurt ye,” Monty told the little pokemon, freezing in his tracks as it started to scoot away. It held still again and he crouched down to be a little more on its level. “Just want ye to have a snack, is all. Bit cold and damp for goin’ hungry, don’t ye think?”

Toxel _did_ think, and took the plate slowly. Monty had to support it a bit still. Toxel didn’t seem to mind that part. It just ate and ate and licked the plate polished-clean. Didn’t beg for more, though. Just curled right up, huffed at Monty, and watched through half-closed eyes as he packed the cookware away. 

“That better, luv?” Monty chuckled as his own accent thickened warmly. “Ha, haven’t had that slip out in a bit. Ye sleep tight then. C’mon, you lot, stop ricocheting around and cozy up. It’s right cold indeed.” 

Toxel was still there when Monty and the team woke up to a misty dawn after the rain. 

“Looking better this morning,” Monty told it politely. Toxel blinked. Monty took that as a _maybe_. “Mind if I come over again?” 

Toxel didn’t seem to mind much of anything, really. Just seemed to focus hard on the sound of Monty’s voice. 

Monty swallowed a bit of his medicine, just in case, like he’d have to on days when something doused in Poison-Powder got brought in, then crept over to Toxel again. Still surely not just mud there, if cleaner than before. Toxel had made at least a little try in cleaning itself up overnight. Monty stifled the urge to whistle–that might startle it too much–and settled for a quiet humming. 

“Somethin’ messed ye up right _good_ , lil’ critter. Even the nicest curry won’t set this quite right,” he said softly. 

Toxel’s expression got quite deadpan. Of course it had already realized that. 

Monty chuckled softly. “Right, right. So, to the point… I’m no good for fixin’ this. Can’t safely touch ye, see. Sorry about that.” He sighed. “Could bring help, but that’s no good, long ways to the town and back again. Might get more trouble-like while I’m gone, hm?”

Toxel looked fairly resigned now. It had realized that too. It was a sad, lost little resigned, though. The kind that only happened after finding a little hope. Monty felt his heart break just a little. He knew that look a little too well. 

“If ye got any better ideas, I’ll help,” he whispered. 

Toxel looked up at him, then at Argyle still on his shoulder. Then at the other pokemon out helping clear camp. 

Monty _did_ whistle. “Now really? I’m not against, but… ye true and sure? I mean, I’ll let ye go after if ye don’t like me enough, but that’s a lot to trust some stranger’s word.” 

Toxel made a tiny clicking chirp in the back of its throat, the first sound Monty’d heard from him since the sad ghostly sounds before. It might’ve been laughter. 

Monty tilted his head, conceded the point. “Alright, a stranger who made curry. Well… good enough. Haha, this’ll turn Mako’s hair grey…” He pulled a heal ball out of his bag. “This should help until I can reach a doctor proper. Welcome on, little one.” 


	13. Ice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that Chirchester gym, huh?

Monty clutched the detector rods tight in frozen fingers and stepped forward, waiting for that inevitable awful crumbling under her feet. She couldn’t _see_ –as if the invisible pits weren’t bad enough, now it was all thick thick fog and deep deep cold and all she could think about was _why did the uniform have to be shorts?_ Her legs were _freezing._

Five. Five badges in. It was awful. Exhilarating. Synistra crept along close behind, the little Pawniard keeping a wary eye on the snowy ground, prodding every ice-boulder. _We fight only for ourselves,_ wasn’t that what Opal had said? Sure, Monty had gotten this far because _Monty_ wanted to. And she wanted to go farther. Even in this awful awful room–and not just Monty did. Not just Monty now, not anymore. 

The rods buzzed and she turned left, automatic. Felt smooth platform beneath her feet, good. Synistra cozed up beside, careful not to let those sharp blades scratch her trainer’s bare leg. Cold little Pawniard, but Monty felt so, so warm. 

_She believes in me._ She took another step forward–the fog cleared, like magic. Like hope. _I believe in me too._

She heard someone calling to her as she climbed the stairs at last, at last. _Splendid_ , they said, _puff out your chest a bit._ Monty laughed and laughed and Synistra joined in too, harsh little clanging bell of a sound that set the smile warming her all over again. Monty turned and waved–she was supposed to, she remembered that–and stopped in the dark as soon as she was through. A little warmer in here. That was nice. 

The stadium was right ahead. Monty reached down and touched the pokeballs at her side. Dusk, that’s Synistra, the silly dear. A great ball with calm Ruso and his clever tricks. It was warm and cold at the same time, typical Chandelure mischief. Smooth pokeball for Otho, the second friend she'd caught, beautiful Corviknight he was now but just as goofy as ever. Strange ridges, that’d be new Dorso. Monty still wasn’t used to ultra balls yet, or to Perrserkers. But she was a strong cat, good cat. Little bubbly circles, a repeat ball? Warm, warm Paenula. Monty smiled, so proud, finally big and strong she was after being a little coal for so long. And arc-ridged great again, old Opilio. He’d helped against Milo. Now again. 

She could _feel_ them in there, feel what they felt, just a little. Nervous, stage fright, _golly-the-heck’s-with-that-floor–_ Monty laughed, because she sure agreed. …but also warmth. _Trust._ Monty nodded, smiled, stepped forward, into the light. 

_We believe in me too._


	14. Ghosts?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Wild Area has some very odd secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (This one's more a joke chapter than anything; apologies for vanishing so long, I thought I had already posted everything but it turns out I had more left in the folder after all)

Monty had always been able to see ghosts. At least, as long as she could remember. So it didn’t surprise her one bit to spot a person blurring past on their bicycle one night as she ran under the bridge area. They vanished before she could call out to them. It wasn’t the first time that had happened. Monty shrugged and kept walking. 

A group of them clustered around as Monty rattled a berry tree. Just stood there staring. Right spooky, but not the worst, she guessed. 

Sprinted away from a raging Bewear, stopped to catch her poor burning breath, almost walked into someone. Young woman maybe, hat very like Monty’s? No, younger. Just a girl, maybe early teens. Odd. “Oh, hello,” the girl said. 

“Hello?” Monty tried. This one didn’t vanish right away. Was she real? Well, of course she was real. But was she solid? 

The girl offered a nervous smile and held something out. “I don’t know how this ended up in my pocket… so here–why don’t you take it?” 

Monty did take it, against all advice in dealing with spooks. 

It was a bag of salad. The girl smiled brightly and vanished. Monty blinked and put the salad away. 

She heard the girl’s voice in her head. “The question is… how did it get in my pocket?” 

Monty certainly knew better than to answer. The salad made for a very odd but good choice the dinner curry. She tried very hard not to think of where it came from. It almost worked. 


	15. Dragon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A second chapter tonight because the previous one was so darn short ^.^;; Okay, they're both really short

The sand kicked up harder and Monty shielded their eyes, wishing fervently that they’d allow challengers to wear even safety glasses with the uniform. How did Raihan stand it, doing this all day? Duraludon loomed, then loomed higher, higher, higher- Monty’s breath caught, but not in fear. _Excitement._ Their hands trembled with containing the slow wild grin. They’d learned that grin so well in the weeks. 

“Sorana! Well done, come back!” 

Their Mr. Rime retreated gratefully into her ball. She’d held well, tackling two while Fidenas handled the third, but this was no match for an ice type. 

Monty felt at the pokeballs on their hip. There. Smoothest, ordinary. Dearest. “Scaevola, my friend! Your time to shine!” 

Their great Rillaboom came out roaring, drum pounding the beat as the sand whipped stronger. Fidenas shrilled, loving his moment, his partner. Duraludon boomed a challenge. 

_Steel. Tough defense, like Steelix._ Options flashed by. _Can’t pound it. Let Scaevola grow- Fide’s turn._

And then it ended, in a moment. No Dynamax from Monty. Just one Earth Power. The wild grin escaped as the damned sand finally died, Duraludon crumbling and shrinking, Monty’s elated Flygon curled around them. Scaevola chuffed, smirking, and stowed his drum. Monty chuckled, breathless, eyes streaming. “Sorry, my dear, you didn’t get to shine this time,” they laughed, patting Scaevola’s mane through the tangle of Fidenas’s loving coils. “Oi, gerroff, ye lump, gotta get my badge.” 

No such luck. Little baby Vala escaped his ball, sneaky Dreepy, and joined the coiling in place of Monty’s hat. Scaevola chuffed again and picked them all up in the biggest hug the big Rillaboom could do. Even Duraludon voiced soft approval as its trainer healed it. 

Raihan just sighed at his loss and shook his head, tried to look cool for the crowd that sang cheers for this one that dragons loved. 


	16. Stepping Stones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Monty has had enough.

Blinding lights, but Monty was used to that now. Good, clean lights, cold but familiar. Thick turf under her feet, that’s how it should be. Her jersey was still soft, still smelled clean-laundered, even after that fierce battle with Marnie. 

And now for the next. Hop. Monty smiled at him, calm and polite as she knew was right to do, as she did for every opponent. And most for her friend, the little boy she’d known since he was a baby. None too little now, but that was alright. She didn’t mind not being tall. 

_Ha. Mind’s wandering._ She laughed softly to herself and shook her head. This wasn’t the time for the past, or the future. Nothing behind, nothing ahead. Just the moment. Breathe, relax. Had her team at the ready, everyone in order. Didn’t need to rehearse it. Monty liked to let the other person do the talking. 

Except when they met in the center, Hop’s eyes weren’t on her. Looked past her, all the way past. He just smiled, closed his eyes. “I just had this sort of flashback, you know,” he said. “Remember? Back when we were still in Postwick.” 

Almost drew a chuckle. Reminiscing, now? Here at the crown of crowns, just one step before? Except it still wasn’t _Monty_ he was remembering. 

Hop opened his eyes, smiled at the crowd, looked all around. “When we got our Pokemon from Lee that day, I never would’ve dreamed that I’d end up standing here… facing you, of all people.” 

That one _hurt_. Hurt and surprised. Why did it hurt? “What’s that sayin’, Hop?” Monty asked softly. 

Hop just grinned his big broad grin, didn’t hear or didn’t care maybe. “But it’s time I finish what was started that day,” he told her. He was basking, she saw it in his face. Same look Leon got when he called out Charizard, same as when he did that pose. “Got it? The one who’ll become Champion is me!” 

Monty reached up and turned off her lapel microphone. Bitter, bitter. These weren’t words for the stadium to hear. 

“It’s always about _you_ , Hop,” she said, and saw him pause for the very first time. Her voice was so quiet, but somehow it cut under all the cheers and screams and calls from the crowd, cut through like ice. “Always how yer gonna be Champion. And that’s alright, or it was. I’m yer Monty. Said I’d help ye ‘long the way. Well, the way sure was long, but here we are.”

Monty smiled at him again but it wasn’t a calm smile now, wasn’t a polite one. She found herself thinking of the cold snow mountain she’d climbed to reach here, of Route 9 and Spikemuth’s shuttered gate. “And still it’s all about you, _your_ dream. Did ye never notice I got dreams too?”

Was he surprised? Did she shake him? But she’d held the words too long to swallow now. 

“No, maybe not,” she conceded, and the smile softened and soured at the same time as she turned it toward herself. “Took me long enough to notice m'self, and they’re mine.” Her hand closed tight around Asper’s smooth, so-known ball. “They’re _mine_." 

Monty took a deep breath, tears leaking out of eyes and voice even as her cheeks stayed dry. "But I’m not here for yer standin’ stone now! I’m here for me and mine. I’m the _best_ yer Monty you’ll ever meet.” The crowd roared as if they heard her and she yelled over them, raised hand and head high. “Hear that? I’m the best yer Monty!”

*

The dust cleared. All the thoughts in Hop’s wishing star fell down, down, down with Inteleon, crumbled as Scaevola’s drum struck back with the very turf beneath their feet. Monty stepped forward and put a hand on Scaevola’s back as her rival's, her _friend’s_ pokemon shrank back down. 

And Monty saw his hope go quiet, go dull, turn into the simple, soft acceptance of a loss. “Monty…” He took a breath. “Thanks, mate. I’m really glad you were the one here with me.”

The announcer called out her victory, but Monty didn’t hear. Didn’t care. 

The anger’s gone now. Just calm pride. Yes, pride. Pride, even as she crushed her friend’s dream beneath her feet. Monty held out a hand, no smile, but her eyes were still soft and her voice softer. 

“Always with yer eyes on the horizon, my boy. Ye never thought to look to the side and see who walked with ye there all the long way. …not until now.” The smallest of smiles began to form as Hop took her hand, hesitant and unsure for once, like he couldn’t tell if she was still angry or not. Monty held his hand gently, then pulled him close for a hug. 

Hop laughed a little, shaky as the adrenaline dropped off. “Hey, when did I get taller than you?” he tried to tease. 

Monty smiled truly, sweet and sad, shook her head. “Ye see? We fought and ye looked _through_ me, all the time. Ye’ve been taller for months, since Kabu cheered us off, but ye didn’t notice, didn’t look at me. Just like Leon did for poor left-behind Sonia.” Monty let go, stepped back, kept her hands on his shoulders as if that could lend him some of her strength as his flickered in the wake of everything. “But she found her road. I found mine. …ye still have yours. It’s alright now. Go find it.” 

Hop patted her hand, and she knew he didn’t understand it, not yet. “Thanks, mate,” he said. “Come on, let’s get back to the lockers. Lee’s probably waiting.” 

Monty swallowed her sigh. Still a child, he was, in little ways. He’d learn in time. She held onto that. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I love and appreciate Hop, and his character arc is one of the best I've seen since Pokemon Gold's rival, but his constant fixation on his legend and ignoring the player's for the most part, that got under Monty's skin good. I've had this idea since his first comment in the Weald about it being a good first page in his legend, and it soundly clicked into a chapter during the semifinals.


	17. Champion

Monty flinched and stumbled, the earth rolled under their feet as the huge rock crashed down. Paenula stood firm-seeming under it, beautiful strong Coalossal, but even she wouldn’t hold another one. The wishing star itched and burned at Monty’s wrist, Paenula looked back, felt the pulse and rise, but they put their hand over the band and snuffed the surge. No. No Dynamax. Like Piers. Prove we can fight still without it, have a fierce _win_ without it. 

Sands hissed hard as Monty called out “Rock Slide!" 

Saw Leon grit his teeth, Paenula roar, Charizard flinch and shudder and groan under the pounding stone. 

And still it stood. 

Leon’s grin- almost sad, Paenula can’t outspeed that Charizard, last leg though it was. Done next turn, nothing else to withstand its might. 

"You almost had me, Monty,” he called. “If you had Dynamaxed, you might have won it!" 

Monty bit their lip, slid their glasses down. But not in defeat. In readying. 

And the sands kicked up, the sands _he_ kicked up. Sands that would not rise without that big rock to shake them. 

Saw his shock, Raihan’s wild grin–his tactics, _his_ , if not his hand–Piers’s small smile. 

And Charizard roar and fall, fall, fall– 

Downed by his own sandstorm, his own move.

Felt Pae’s own roar, Monty’s shout and triumph and Leon’s proud joy. And best, most-loved Mako’s pride, for the tactics, for the knowing. For the trust. Because it was not–never–about the biggest, strongest, best. It was about what you can with what you’ve got. 

And the crown fell. Monty won.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is exactly how it went down in-game and it was GLORIOUS. I couldn't have invented it better if I tried. I refused to dynamax in the endgame at all, as a nod to Piers: Monty trying to prove to the crowd that you don't need Dynamax to be awesome. And it worked. Not only did it work, I won in a way that I wouldn't have if Leon hadn't used dynamax himself


End file.
